Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Finis

An idle rhyme of the summer time, 
Sweet, and solemn, and tender; 
Fair with the haze of the moon’s pale rays, 
Bright with the sunset’s splendour.

Summer and beauty over the lands -
Careless hours of pleasure; 
A meeting of eyes and a touching of hands -
A change in the floating measure.

A deeper hue in the skies of blue, 
Winds from the tropics blowing; 
A softer grace in the fair moons face, 
And the summer going, going.

The leaves drift down, the green grows brown, 
And tears with smiles are blended; 
A twilight hour and a treasured flower, -
And now the poem is ended.